Sensuous Stories (6 page)

He pulled two small books from the
bookshelf. One was pristine and leather bound, the other looked
like it lived, until recently, at the bottom of a bargain book
basket at the local second hand shop.

“
Lorna Doone. Ever heard of
it?”

She shook her head. “Is it good?”

“
Very old fashioned and
melodramatic. But it has a happy ending. I think you’ll like
it.”

“
I’m sure I will no matter
what it is.” She smiled at him and noted with a pang, a slight
blueness around his lips. “Are you alright Alfred? Not too
tired?”

“
I’m never too tired for
you, my dear. Ah, there they are. So beautiful,” he said, gazing at
her now naked breasts. She slipped off the rest of her clothes and
sat on the plump couch Alfred had already covered with a soft,
cotton sheet. Hanging down from the ceiling were two ropes, the
ends covered in fur loops. She raised her legs and fixed the loops
around her ankles like stirrups. The ropes were spaced far apart so
she was wide open to Alfred’s gaze.

He smiled at her and picked up a bowl full
of dark, rose scented honey. She sighed with bliss. Now she could
fully relax and let him take over. He stood between her legs and
poured the honey over her breasts. It covered them and dribbled
down her belly to her wet slit. She hummed with pleasure.

“
Just right, Alfred. Not too
cold.”

“
Good. I wanted to make sure
it wouldn’t be uncomfortable.”

When she was covered, he picked up another
bowl full of water and gave it to her to hold. Then he picked up
the tatty version of Lorna Doone and ripped out the first page.
Dipping it quickly in the water, he draped it over one breast where
it clung to the honey. Working quickly, he continued to rip out
pages and cover her breasts. Soon he was breathing heavily, exited
and feverish.

When her breasts were completely covered
with wet paper and honey, he stood back and smiled at her. “So
beautiful,” he said. “You are perfect.”

Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive,
wanting to be touched. Her nipples were hard and stuck out from the
thin paper.

He took the bowl from her at put it aside.
Placing a small footstool between her legs, he opened the leather
covered version of Lorna Doone, leant forward so his mouth was just
at the entrance to her cunt and proceeded to read.

“
If anybody care to read a
simple tale told simply, I, John Ridd, of the parish of Oare, in
the county of Somerset, yeoman and churchwarden, have seen and had
a share in some doing of this neighbourhood, which I will try to
set down in order, God sparing my life and memory.”

His voice was like the honey on her breasts,
dark and sweet. She could feel his warm breath on her clit as he
read and closed her eyes feeling, as always, the need to lift her
hips to meet his mouth. But she knew he wouldn’t like that. This
moment was just for him. But he was generous and she knew she
wouldn’t be left unsatisfied. She opened her eyes and looked down
at him, the book in one hand and his cock in the other. He
continued to read.

“
I had never heard so sweet
a sound as came from between her bright red lips...”

She closed her eyes again and leant her head
back on the couch feeling the words slide around her wet lips and
into her. The walls of her cunt stretched and a humming vibration
pulsed deep in her belly. Every small gush of moisture in her pussy
intensified the feel of his breath on her clit.

She opened her eyes to see him pumping
himself faster and faster.

Her cunt pulsed now to the rhythm of his
voice. She inched her hand through her curls getting her fingers
closer to her clit when his voice started breaking. He stood, and
throwing back his head, groaned and pumped his cock furiously.
Semen splattered onto her breasts and dribbled down her belly.

He came to himself and breathing heavily,
knelt on the footstool. This was the moment she’d been waiting for
all day. He placed his hands on her breasts and squeezed, smearing
the honey, semen and wet paper into a messy paste. She pushed two
fingers into her cunt and moved them in and out as he licked her
breasts, taking in the gooey honey mixture. In this moment she
always felt the need to push her fingers in hard, wanting to keep
his voice inside her.

His tongue and mouth sucked and licked all
over her breasts leaving the nipples until the end. She started
rubbing her clit as he finally sucked her nipples, gently at first
and then hard and rhythmically. As his tongue flicked her wet,
sticky nipples, she felt a strong throb, deep in her cunt.

Her climax exploded through her, making her
shriek and thrust her breast further into Alfred’s mouth. She fell
back against the couch while Alfred rested, his head on her
belly.

“
That was lovely, my dear,
the best yet,” he murmured.

She sat back with her eyes closed, feeling
his finger lightly touch the tip of her nipple.

“
So beautiful,” he
whispered.

The following month Ellen received a package
in the mail, the day before her usual appointment with Alfred. In
it was a tape, the calf bound copy of Lorna Doone, a cheque for ten
thousand dollars and a note from his solicitor telling her Alfred
died a week ago. Unexpected grief knifed through her. She realised
she would miss him terribly. Not only because he’d been a good and
kind man, but when they were together she’d felt cherished.

She placed the tape in a cassette player and
listened to Alfred read Lorna Doone. Even in her grief, his voice
had the power to arouse her, make her crave the feel of his mouth
near her cunt and on her breasts, telling her tales, taking her
somewhere else. She wanted her breasts to be coated in honey again
while waiting for his mouth to suck hard on her nipples.

Over the next months she slumped into
despondency, unable to find pleasure in the usual moments of her
life. She knew her friends and lovers were concerned about her, but
it was as if gauzy veil had been dropped between her and the rest
of the world. Life seemed without joy or purpose. She knew she was
going through the motions, faking pleasure and withdrawing into
herself.

Then one day she made an appointment with a
new client. She’d lost a couple because of her lack of energy and
told herself to snap out of it or else she’d lose more. Brushing
her long black hair, she looked at herself in the mirror and saw
dark circles under her eyes. This would not do. Slapping on some
makeup, she vowed she’d get her life together.

Her new client was a woman in her sixties.
Maya Andersen. A recently retired professional woman, she was
attractive and matter of fact, telling Ellen she had spent most of
her life working hard and had little time for intimate
relationships. At her age she felt she was too old to start dating
and anyway, didn’t want someone else in her life. She was tall and
lean with a sleek red bob and sharp blue eyes surrounded by fine
lines.

As she talked, Ellen felt a quiver move
through her. Maya’s voice was rough and cigarette encrusted, both
sharp and deep.

After Ellen fucked her, bringing her to a
screaming climax with her mouth and fingers, Maya asked her to
straddle her so she could caress Ellen’s breasts. She pulled and
pinched her nipples all the time telling Ellen how beautiful they
were and how she wanted to suck and nibble her.

“
Is your cunt just as
beautiful? Let me see. Come up here,” she said, pulling Ellen up so
her cunt was over her face.

“
Ah, yes,” she murmured.
“Dark pink and luscious. I could just gaze at you all
day.”

Ellen’s heart pounded hard and her cunt
stretched and vibrated as Maya talked. She wanted to keep her
talking so she could feel her voice vibrate against her throbbing
clit and slide into her. When Maya pulled her down and took her
clit in her mouth, sucking and licking, Ellen fought her
disappointment and struggled to achieve a half hearted orgasm. She
moaned out her release and climbed off Maya when she was done.

“
Not very satisfied were
you?” said Maya. “I guess that’s not surprising. I don’t pay you to
desire me after all.” Her smile was sad and a little wistful. Ellen
hesitated as she held her bra in her hand.

“
It’s not that,” she
stammered, wondering if she could tell this woman what she wanted.
“Strangely enough I do want you, but not in the way you
think.”

Ellen sat on the couch, her legs propped up
and open as Maya poured the honey over her breasts.

“
Is this right?” Maya
asked.

“
It’s perfect. Now the
book.”

Maya picked up the book and then sat between
Ellen’s legs on a footstool. She started to read. Ellen could feel
Maya’s voice enter her and moved her fingers toward her cunt to
keep the words in.

“
Can I do that?” Maya asked,
breaking off from her reading.

Ellen hesitated, uncertain, but seeing the
look of avid desire on the other woman’s face, nodded.

Maya slid two fingers into Ellen and started
a steady, rhythmical thrust. She held the book in her other hand
and started reading again. Wanting to weep with relief, Ellen felt
the warm vibration build and pulse within her.

“
Yes,” she said.
“Yes.”

“
And if I wish to pay her
out for something very dreadful – as may happen once or twice, when
we become to gladsome – I bring her to forgotten sadness, and to me
for cure of it, by the two words, ‘Lorna Doone.’”

Gardening with Grace

Grace McLaren sat back on her haunches and
surveyed her garden. It looked good. Most of the beds were made and
filled with her favorite plants. The sky was blue, the air clear,
the sun a warm caress on her back. She gave a satisfied grunt as
she stood and stretched her arms, feeling a not unpleasant
stiffness in her muscles.

Virtuous pain. It felt wonderful.

She pulled off her gardening gloves and hat,
then ran a hand through her short, dark curls. A cup of tea would
be a perfect finish to the day. Bending to pick up a stray weed,
she stiffed, then stood abruptly, hearing the piercing sound of
circular saw cut through the still air.

No, not again! That bastard!

She strode over to the fence and hiked
herself up to peer down into the yard next door. There he was, that
wretched sneak, Jack Henson. Using those appalling power tools
after he promised her he’d only use them when she wasn’t in her
garden. She couldn’t even yell at him with all that sound going on.
Grace vibrated with fury as she gripped the fence and felt the
sharp edge of the paling cut into her hands.

I’m going to get him this time. He’s going
to regret he ever moved in to this neighborhood.

He looked up suddenly and she saw the dismay
on his face. She smirked with satisfaction.

Too late for that boyo. You’re in
trouble.

Sure, he was the most interesting man to
ever move to Arcadia in recent years, with his silver streaked hair
and broad, muscled chest, but being the object of lust of most of
the women in the street would not stop Grace from crushing him like
a bug.

He turned off the saw and crossed over to
her. “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were in the
garden.”

“
Oh sure, like yesterday and
the day before and the day before that. I’ve had enough, Jack.
You’ve never intended to compromise. It’s all been just a con.
Well, we’ll see what the local Council says when I tell them you’re
running a business from home.”

“
You wouldn’t.”

“
Watch me.” She spun around
and marched toward her back door.

“
Grace...”

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him
climb the fence and drop into her garden. Excellent. “What the hell
do you think you’re doing. Get off my property!”

“
Can’t we talk about this?”
he said, sounding desperate. Even better.

“
There’s nothing to talk
about. You agreed to not use power tools when I was in the garden
and you’ve not kept to your side of the bargain. That means all
bets are off.”

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t notice
you there. You didn’t exactly announce yourself.”

She waved her hand in dismissal and turned
to walk back to her house. His hand on her arm made her jump.

“
Grace, this is
ridiculous.”

She shook him off and almost ran to the back
door, panting as she raced in and slammed it behind her. Or tried
to. Panic and something else, something delighted and dark, speared
through her as she sensed him just behind her. Sure enough, he
pushed the door open and strode after her into the kitchen.

“
What do you think you’re
doing? You can’t come here. Get out!”

“
We need to talk about this,
Grace. It can’t go your way all the time.”

“
Oh can’t it?” she said, a
delicious lick of nervousness sliding through her belly as he
backed her against the kitchen wall.

“
No!” he yelled. “I’ve tried
my best to be a good neighbor but it’s never enough for
you.”

“
You haven’t tried hard
enough,” she said. He was only inches from her and she could smell
earth and sun on him. And something else, something male and
pungent. The fury in his eyes ignited a spark of satisfaction deep
within her. He would pay all right.

“
What do you mean?” he said.
“I’ve talked to you, I’ve listened to what you want. You were so
quick to lay down the law as soon as I moved in and I agreed to
everything. Now you threaten me when I’m not quick enough to notice
where you are every time of the day. What am I supposed to
do?”